


Adopting a Hero

by GlowBug2013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowBug2013/pseuds/GlowBug2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a rough day taking care of his brother and doing what is expected of him from his father. Maybe there's someone who can give him a few moments of care and loving attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adopting a Hero

Bobby had just settled into his comfy chair in front of the tv when Dean shlumped his way down the stairs. The 10 year old looked wiped out, shoulders sagging and eyelids drooping. At supper, Bobby had come to the conclusion that Sam had been a bit of a handful today. Dean didn't say as much, but the boy was wound tighter than a harp string, and his patience seemed unusually thin.  
"Sammy's in bed." He mumbled, earning an approving nod. The pseudo-parent watched as the boy paced the floor for a minute, walking to the couch to sit down, only to make his way toward the kitchen, but changing his mind and heading to the stairs. He looked frustrated and stressed.  
Finally, he escaped to the kitchen, then out the back door. Bobby knew he was only going out to the garage, but something made him get up and follow the child. He took his time to put his boots on and to write a note in the off-chance that Sam were to get out of bed. After he felt like he'd given Dean a decent head start he walked out the back door.  
He found the him in the back of the garage, sorting parts. He let his boots clop a little on the cement, but it didn't seem to alert the child any. He settled on the ground across from where Dean was trying to sort a bucket of washers and screws and the like into their rightful jars.  
Keyword: trying  
The poor kid's hands were shaking like mad. Shaky hands, ragged breathing, and desperately trying to hide the tears that kept popping into his eyes. Dean was falling apart, but fighting it as hard as he could.  
"Everything alright, sport?" He asked, gravelly voice soft and inviting. Dean nodded forcefully, but it melted into the opposite response as a small sob bubbled it's way out of the boy's throat. "No." He choked out as he continued with the losing battle against his emotions. The man nodded understandingly. "You wanna tell me what's eatin ya?"  
Dean let the handful of hardware that he was holding fall back into the bucket and wrapped his arms around himself. "Sammy keeps asking about why we live like this, and he's mad at me cuz I won't tell him, and dad doesn't want me to tell him, and if I could take care of him right he wouldn't need answers so bad, but I can't do any ybetter, and I did really bad last time we had target practice and I think dad's mad and-" the verbal flood was cut off when Dean finally lost control against the wave of tears.  
The child wrapped his arms tighter around himself, as if to somehow stop himself from breaking apart. Bobby gently move the pail that lay between them and knelt before the bawling 10 year old.  
Gently, he wrapped an arm around Dean and stood, pulling him to his feet. Then he let the child rest his weight on him and rubbed his back a for a bit, trying to soothe the stubborn boy as best as he could.  
Dean melted into the touch and gave in to his misery for a moment. Only for a moment though, soon he was forcing himself to find strength and dignity once more. The tears were stopped by force of will (though it took way longer than Dean would have liked), even if he couldn't quite hide the small sniffles and hiccups.  
He rested against Bobby's flannel shirt for a heartbeat longer than really necessary, then pushed himself off. "I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby." He sniffled, looking downcast ashamedly.  
Bobby rested a firm hand on each small shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "No worries, son. Now let's get inside before we catch cold." Dean nodded in agreement and the two walked back to the house, Bobby's arm slung around Dean's narrow frame.  
"Sit." Bobby ordered, pointing at a wooden kitchen chair. Dean obeyed. A small glass of cold water was placed in front of him and he was instructed to sip from it. Bobby soaked a cloth, rang it out, and turned off the tap.  
"Can't have you going upstairs lookin a mess like this. Sammy'd be on you faster than a bluetick on a coon trail." He grumbled while he gently wiped the tear tracks and snot from the boy's blotchy face, happy when Dean cracked a small smile at the analogy. He could feel a small, relieved sigh being released as he made sure to hold the cool cloth behind each ear and on the back of Dean's neck before tossing it into the sink.   
"Uncle Bobby, my head hurts." He voiced in a tiny, uncertain squeak. "I'll bet it does." The older sympathized, reaching into the cupboard. "Sip that water, see if we can't get some fluids back in ya."  
Dean blushed, but picked up the glass obediently. Wordlessly, Bobby slid a small rice crispy treat in front of the child and rubbed his back a few more times on an impulse, before taking the seat across from him.  
Dean stared at the snack as if it might bite him. "Go on, eat up." The older encouraged softly, prompting the other to finally take a bite.   
While the treat and water slowly disappeared a nibble and a sip at a time, Bobby started to talk low and reassuring. "I'll talk to Sam, he won't bug you no more for a while. I know keeping a secret like this is a pain in the ass, especially with family. As for the shooting, we can go down to the range tomorrow as soon as I close up the shop. We'll see what we can do about that shot of yours. Still drifting right with it?" He asked, almost laughing when he realized that Dean had just stuffed the last quarter of the treat into his mouth whole. It was refreshing to see him behave like a child.  
"Yessir." He forced around the food. Bobby nodded thoughtfully. 'That's because John has you shooting guns that are too big for you.' He thought in irritation while Dean finished his water. "Thank you." He said sweetly.  
"You're welcome. I think it's bedtime." Bobby replied. A stubborn look began to form, but stopped in its tracks. "Okay." He shrugged, as if it had been his intention to begin with. They took off their shoes and Dean hesitated in the doorway, attention torn between the stairs on the other side of the living room, and Bobby.  
"C'mon, I'll walk you up." The gesture earned another 'disinterested' response from the parent-like child. The mask was fighting for dominance, telling Dean to grow up and act like an adult like he was always asked to.  
Not tonight though. Dean let Bobby pull the covers over him and watched gratefully as he checked the lock on the window and the salt lines. "G'night, kid." And the door was pulled shut behind one of Dean's favorite people in the whole world.


End file.
